


A Hopeful Halloween

by plague of insomnia (chiealeman)



Series: Drabbles [6]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Agoraphobia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Human Sebastian Michaelis, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I think I managed to write fluff?, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, sebard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 14:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21199502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiealeman/pseuds/plague%20of%20insomnia
Summary: Sebastian’s anxiety from his PTSD has blossomed into full blown agoraphobia: he’s afraid to leave the safety of his house. Hoping to help him feel better, Bard arranges a small Halloween party in their home with their friends Agni and Soma, giving Sebastian some hope for recovery, and reminding him that those who care about him won’t abandon him when he needs them most.





	A Hopeful Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> (Rating explanation at the bottom of this note.)
> 
> This fic was finished in time for MrsGeekemz birthday, one of my biggest Sebard supporters! Happy Birthday!!
> 
> You could read this as a stand-alone, but it will make more sense if you read “The Promise” (at least) first.
> 
> This AU just won’t leave me alone... I already have another idea 😅. This fic came out of nowhere; guess I needed a little fluff— I think I managed it, sorta?
> 
> The reason for the non-con/underage rating is due to a flashback scene—I purposefully minimized the descriptions and kept it short, but be advised. 
> 
> **I’ve bolded the first sentence and last word of that scene, so if you want to skip it, you can.**
> 
> That’s the ONLY part of the fic that isn’t essentially PG.

_ Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump. _ Sebastian’s heart beat so loudly it was all he could hear. He gripped the doorframe tightly with each hand, as if he were standing on the edge of a steep cliff and the moment he let go, moved forward, took _ even one single step _, he would plunge to his death. His breathing came in rapid pants. Every car that passed on the street made his heart jump and a subtle tremor shake his body. He scanned the porch and tiny fenced-in front yard as if expecting something—someone—to suddenly pop out.

“You can do this,” he said out loud in a shaky voice, even if his entire body screamed that he couldn’t, that this was dangerous, that he would _ die _ if he didn’t go back inside right now.

_ Th-thump-th-thump-th-thump-th-thump. _

He bit his lip as a single tear traced down his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment. The mailbox was mounted to the wall just a few inches from where he stood. He could get the contents without ever leaving the safety of the doorway. His arms were long enough.

If only he could stop shaking.

Ensuring he was balanced, he kept one hand, vicelike, on the doorframe, while the other stretched toward the mailbox.

“You can do this; you can do this; you can do this,” he chanted over and over, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to ignore the dizziness. It would be over in a few minutes and he’d be safely back inside.

He flipped the lid open with a clatter and reached in, struggling to manage to grab the mail from this awkward position. He’d be fine as long as he didn’t actually step outside, he told himself. Stomach churning, he snagged the post in one hand, trying not to catch anything on the way out. (If he dropped something, it was lost; the porch might as well have been lava.)

Once secure, he immediately brought it to his chest and dropped back into the house with a huge sigh of relief, kicking the door shut with a loud crash. 

He managed to make it a few more feet into the kitchen, where he dropped into a chair, still recovering, still dizzy, forcing himself to take large, slow breaths so he wouldn’t pass out. 

He tore his lip with his teeth, tasting blood, bitter and metallic. Anything so he wouldn’t break down. His therapist had some fancy explanation for why the crying fits hit him in moments like this, but he didn’t give a fuck. He was just tired.

* * *

Sebastian sat at the kitchen table a full hour, calming down, refocusing, chanting his mantra, “I’m safe. He’s not here. I’m safe,” over and over.

Taking a deep breath, he began sorting the mail, feeling proud of himself. _ “Celebrate the little victories,” _ his therapist always told him. Getting the mail on his own, even if he hadn’t actually technically left the house, was a big milestone.

But he froze when he came across a black square envelope with beautiful orange calligraphy. Inside, he discovered an elegant folded card. The top was a swarm of bats with cut-outs between their wings, and inside, embossed orange lettering invited Sebastian and Bard to Agni and Soma’s annual Halloween costume party.

Sebastian loved Halloween, and normally eagerly looked forward to the event, spending weeks or even months planning and preparing creative couple’s costumes for his husband and himself.

But this year. . . .

This year was different. 

A tear hit the thick black cardstock with an audible _ splat _, leaving a visible stain.

Sebastian leaned back and wiped his eyes furiously, trying to prevent the deluge. He was fucking sick of being a prisoner to his own mind. He missed writing, but when he could muster up the energy to even open a document, nothing flowed.

He hadn’t even found the motivation to decorate. Bard had climbed into the attic and pulled down a stack of black and orange storage boxes labeled carefully in Sebastian’s neat handwriting, a subtle nudge.

They mocked Sebastian whenever he passed them. Just like this invitation.

He’d just had a panic attack from the _ idea _ of leaving the house. No way he could go to a party. Filled with loud music and moody lighting and dozens of people wearing masks. Strangers brushing against and bumping into him. . . . His breathing quickened toward hyperventilation at the mere _ thought _.

And he fucking hated it.

Sebastian finally picked up a pen and placed a large “X” over the “not coming” on the RSVP card—Soma insisted on doing things properly; e-invites or texted RSVPs were apparently “tacky.” Saddened but satisfied that was dealt with, he rose, the crumpling and crumbling of his heart a feeling he was becoming accustomed to.

He canceled his afternoon phone session with his therapist—he couldn’t bring himself to talk to anyone right now—and detoured to check the front and side doors to be confident they were securely locked. Then he trudged upstairs to their bedroom, crawled under the covers, and prayed a dreamless sleep would take him until Bard got home from work in ten hours.

* * *

_Ringing _.

Sebastian, caught in the web of sleep, ignored it. Sleep meant he didn’t have to think or deal with his failure. If he didn’t dream, sleep was an escape from his life and his memories.

_ Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. _

It was clear whoever was calling was incredibly persistent. 

He finally stretched a hand out of the nest of blankets and snatched his cell from the bedside table, answering without opening his eyes to see who it was. “What.”

“Thank god. Are you OK?” Bard. He was frantic sounding. Sebastian could hear the chaos of voices and clanging utensils, sizzling and chopping. Bard must have ducked into a storage room to make the call, but it couldn’t completely insulate from the busy, noisy commercial kitchen. 

“What?” Sebastian’s thoughts were slow. Maybe he was still asleep? Why was Bard calling him in the middle of a shift?

“Your therapist called the restaurant since I don’t usually have my phone on me when I’m working.”

Sebastian curled into a ball and pulled the blankets tighter around him. “I don’t understand.” He felt like his brain was lost in a fog, and his husband was speaking a language he had learned when he was a young child and understood, but it took longer to process and he couldn’t get the nuances.

“Remember, we have an agreement with her that if you cancel too many appointments, she calls me to let me know?” 

Sebastian sighed. He didn’t remember that exactly, but it made sense. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Bard grunted. “We both know that’s code, Seb. Do you need me to come home?” Bard’s tone had become strained and even more concerned than when he’d first called.

“If you don’t work you don’t get paid,” Sebastian said in a flat voice, as if Bard didn’t know that.

“Seb. If you can’t be alone right now, then fuck work—”

“You don’t need to leave work. Just tell Agni I’m sorry we can’t go to his party this year.”

* * *

“Seb? Seb?” Bard pressed his finger into his ear to try to drown out the background noise, finally pulling the phone away to see that Seb had ended the call. Bard sighed, still staring at if trying decide if he should call back when someone spoke up behind him.

“Sebastian all right?” Agni’s voice, warm and rich. He had left the kitchen in the chaos of the dinner rush to check on him? 

Bard sighed. “He mentioned your party. And not going. Maybe that’s it. He hasn’t put out a single spider or foam pumpkin this year and it’s already October. Normally, he starts decorating in August. He _ loves _ Halloween. But this year—” 

Agni was tall. At least half a foot over Bard, and he smiled down at him as he placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it encouragingly. “Why don’t you go home after the rush ebbs? I’ll make sure you still get paid for a full shift. I know things are tight right now, with Sebastian not working.” 

Bard itched for a cigarette, but even if he’d had them on his person right now, Agni would flay him alive for smoking in the stockroom. “Will’ll shit a brick.” 

Agni chuckled softly. “If so, I’ll deal with it. It’s my restaurant, my staff, and I’ll handle it how I want. If he doesn’t like it, I can find another manager.”

Bard smiled, feeling some of the barbs of anxiety around his heart releasing. “Thank you, Agni. I really appreciate this.”

“I’ll tell Soma to keep two spots open for y’all just in case you can make it to the party after all. And if not, maybe we can come over to yours and the four of us can have a nice meal together. I’ll cook.”

* * *

**Seb felt someone shaking him**. It was dark. He was in bed. He could just make out a male figure through his eyelashes. (If his uncle thought he was asleep, sometimes he’d go away.)

And yet he still heard his voice, low and silky and deceptively sweet, “Won’t you wake up and greet your uncle properly with a kiss? I would hate to tell your parents how vile you really are. You know what they would do if they knew you didn’t like girls, but boys, right? They would kick you out for being so disgusting. But I understand—” A hand smoothed Sebastian’s shoulder through the covers and he stiffened, breathing harder and faster. “I understand how you feel. It’s why we have to stick together. I’ll protect you from them as long as you give me what I deserve. What you _ owe _ me. Right?” 

Slowly, Uncle Aliestor pried the blanket away, exposing more and more of Sebastian.

“Roll onto your stomach.”

Sebastian obeyed. He didn’t want to, but his uncle loved him. He understood him like no one else. 

“Good boy.” A large but delicate hand pulled Sebastian’s underwear and PJ bottoms over his butt, exposing it to the chilly air, but then the warm palm covered it. “You’re lucky I found out about your . . . _ tastes _ before your parents. You’re lucky you have me to look after you.” 

A finger entered him, the familiar burn and pressure and unpleasantness as it prodded inside him. He squirmed as if to escape only to be held firm by another hand, fingers squeezing tight enough to bruise. “Do you want me to tell your parents how disgusting you are? Do you think they want a gay slut as a son? You know they fight because of you. If they get divorced, it’s_ your _ fault.”

A second finger, and he whimpered, but bit his lip so he wouldn’t make a sound loud enough to disturb his parents. Uncle Al was right. If they knew, they wouldn’t love him anymore, and he’d have _ nothing _ and no one.

The fingers left him. The mattress dipped and squeaked as his uncle climbed on, tugging Sebastian’s hips to position him. Pressure. Pain. Searing and tearing as his uncle moved.

Tears in his eyes, Sebastian bit his arm to help keep silent. Just a few minutes, and it would be over. Just a few minutes, and he could **sleep**.

* * *

“Seb. Seb. Sebastian. Wake up. Sebastian!”

His eyes snapped open. Vision struggled to focus. He tasted iron in his mouth, and moved his tongue only to realize he was biting something. He widened his mouth, separating from that _ something _ and saw bleeding bite marks on his arm. _ What the fuck _ . . . _ ? _

“Sebastian. Please look at me.”

Dazed, he glanced up and saw Bard, half in his work clothes, expression difficult to read. Was he angry? Had Seb really managed to sleep through his husband’s entire shift? _ What happened to my uncle? _ The stray thought snuck in and slithered around his brain, confounding present and past.

“Seb—who am I?” Bard touched Sebastian’s shoulder and he flinched away.

_ “No one but me could ever love you. You understand that, right?” _

“No. No. No. Go away! Leave me alone!” Sebastian screamed, covering his ears and sobbing as he curled into a tight ball. “Please go away.”

“Tell me who I am and I’ll do whatever you want.” 

The question confused him, but if it meant he wouldn’t be touched, wouldn’t be hurt, then he’d answer. Looking up at the blond man again, he said, “. . . Uncle?” His tone lost-sounding. It didn’t seem right. His uncle couldn’t have just disappeared and been replaced by someone else. And yet. . . . “You aren’t him,” he said, voice trembling, uncertain, speaking without inflection.

“No. No I’m not.” Sebastian liked this man’s voice. It was deeper. Softer. Safer sounding than his uncle’s. “Take my hand.” He held it out, fingers spread, palm down. “Touch it. Hold it.”

It was an odd request. The man had large, stubby hands with thick fingers and a muscular thumb. Thick blond hair coated the skin, and Sebastian could see several small scars and the wrinkled remains of healed burns. A simple gold band circled the ring finger. Not his uncle’s delicate features at all; his uncle was a bachelor. Sebastian stretched his left hand to smooth over the features, exploring the dips and lines and bumps he felt increasing familiarity with. Then he noticed the matching band on his finger. It both surprised him and didn’t. Both expected and not, somehow.

“Bard?”

Bard sucked a sharp breath. “Please let me touch you.”

Confused, Sebastian nodded and was soon scooped into the other man’s tight embrace. “You’re here with me now. I will _ never _ hurt you.”

Bard’s conforming scent—onions fried in butter, a blend of spices, tobacco smoke and clean sweat—pulled Sebastian more and more into reality, and enabled him to see through the haze. “Flashback.”

“I know.” Bard held Sebastian against him, thick fingers working into dark hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“What time is it?” Sebastian asked, leaning his head on his husband’s shoulder so he could bury his nose in the scruffy neck, wanting to keep in the present, with him, and not be yanked violently back to his dark childhood bedroom. He shivered.

Bard hugged him a little tighter and rocked him gently. “Midnight.” 

Sebastian stiffened and pulled away—not easy when Bard was hugging him so securely. “What? Why are you home so early? You—you—you got fired? Because of me. Fuck.” Sebastian could feel panic beginning to sweep over him. “How will we—” 

“Shh. Breathe with me. Breathe in.” Bard directed Sebastian to mimic is breathing patterns to calm him, leading him through each in- and exhalation like a yoga instructor might. Once his husband’s impending panic attack ebbed, he said, “Agni let me leave early. Everything is fine. I promised I would take care of you in sickness and in health. And I will.” He kissed Sebastian’s forehead. “The only thing you need to worry about is getting better. Getting through this flare.”

Sebastian clung to his husband, focusing on his scent, trying to take comfort in it, in his faith that everything would be OK. “But what if I can’t?”

Bard pressed a kiss to Sebastian’s temple. “What?”

“Get better?” He sat up, wiping his face because he couldn’t seem to stop the tears as much as he wanted to. “I can’t even go out to get the mail without a panic attack. I haven’t written in weeks. I’m going to lose my ghostwriting job if I don’t get back to work soon. And then we’ll lose the house, and have to move, and I don’t want to leave—”

“Shh. Shh. Seb—Sebastian. Look at me.” Bard held his husband’s face, staring intently into his eyes. “I promise you. We’ll be OK. The good thing about being a writer is you can work from anywhere, right? Even if it takes you awhile to get your anxiety more controlled, your depression is slowly improving, and you’ll be writing again before you know it. But the more pressure you put on yourself, the harder it will be.” 

Sebastian nodded, breathing deeply to try to rein in his emotions. “I want to go to the party. But I know I can’t.” 

Bard offered him some tissues. “What if we had a little mini Halloween party here. At the house. Just the two of us, Agni and Soma. We can dress up and play games and watch movies and eat. That way you won’t totally miss out, but you won’t be pushing yourself and triggering your anxiety.”

Sebastian died his eyes and his nose. Bard never judged him, but he felt like a child when the crying spells seized him like this.

As if sensing his thoughts, Bard linked his fingers with Sebastian’s, and gave him a supportive squeeze. “Or the two of us can do something, if that would make you more comfortable.”

Sebastian shook his head, his long bangs flying until he tucked them behind his ears. “No. If—if Soma and Agni could—I’d really like that.”

“It really will be OK.” Bard tugged gently to urge Sebastian closer again.

Although he had already slept several hours, he was drained, and curled up on his side with his head on Bard’s thigh.

Bard draped a blanket over Sebastian and gently smoothed his hair. “I love you. You’re so strong, Seb. And you’re not alone. No matter what, you have me to support and protect you.”

“I love you,” he said, hugging his husband’s leg. He didn’t want to admit aloud that part of why he was so afraid he couldn’t recover this time was the change in circumstance. Before, he’d had hope that his uncle could never hurt him again. But he was out for good, and trying to logic his anxiety away never worked. It didn’t matter that his uncle has no sway over him as he once had, or that Sebastian was a grown man now. A small party would be good, though. Something to think about beyond fear and self pity. Something to look forward to.

* * *

A few days later, Bard strolled through the Halloween megastore beside Soma. He was supposed to be shopping for costumes for himself and his husband, but he was distracted.

“I’m sorry about the invitation. I shouldn’t have sent it. I should have been more sensitive—”

Bard shook his head and tapped his temple. “When Seb’s bad, he sees rejection everywhere. Even if he was upset, not getting an invite would have been much worse.”

Soma barely glanced at any of the merchandise; his heart clearly wasn’t in it either. “I wish I could make him better.”

Bard sighed heavily. “How do you think I feel? Seb doesn’t deserve this.” He spotted a black cat ear headband, grabbed it, smiled absently, thinking about how much Sebastian would like it. 

Soma glanced down at a packaged costume, though he paid it so little mind Bard suspected it was merely something to do with his hands. “Honestly, how do you not track that asshole down and kill him?” Soma lowered his voice when he remembered they were in public and a soccer mom gave him a side eye.

Bard tossed the headband in their basket. “If I could and not worry about leaving Seb alone, I would. He’s much more important than some dirtbag. But if I ever found that man on my property . . .” Bard glanced around to be sure no one was looking, then did a gun gesture with his fingers and a _ pop _ noise. “Though that would be too kind a death for scum like him.”

They wandered around the store in relative silence, until Bard finally said, “This—tonight—it’ll help him, even if it’s only a little. Seb—” Bard scratched the back of his head, itching for a cigarette. “He starts thinking he doesn’t deserve good things or people who care about him, and this’ll remind him that his life hasn’t ended because he’s relapsed. So. I owe you and Agni.”

Soma snagged a pink plastic tiara and placed it on Bard’s head, smiling mischievously. “Wear that all night and we’ll call it even.”

Bard folded his arms tightly on his chest, scowling. “Don’t push your luck, princess.”

Soma pretended to be offended and snatched the crown back, settling it on his head. “My prince” was a pet name Agni had for his husband, but Bard had to admit the man did have an air of royalty and wore that damn plastic POS like it was made for him.

“Let’s get outta here. I know Seb’s with Agni, but—”

“Right,” Soma agreed, not forcing Bard to admit out loud how worried he really was about Sebastian.

* * *

Sebastian helped Agni unpack the ingredients he’d brought with him, putting some of the pre-prepared dishes in the fridge or oven, accordingly. The atmosphere between them was tense and awkward; Sebastian was closer with Soma than the older man, just as Bard was closer with Agni, since they had more in common.

“So, how have you been?” Agni said with a smile that immediately fell when he realized his faux pas. “Oh. I mean. I—”

“It’s fine,” Sebastian said. He’d been struggling with mental illness for as long as he could remember, and was used to how it made him a freak, someone people didn’t know how to talk to. He was used to losing people because of it, too.

“No, it isn’t,” Agni said firmly. “You deserve respect.”

Sebastian froze. He really didn’t have any close friends besides his husband, Agni and Soma. It was difficult for him to open up to people; he constantly felt like he had to conceal the stain on his soul. They were also the only ones, beside his therapist, who knew his secret. 

Because he’d been a minor during the trial, his identity had been concealed. The judge had intended the gag order to give Sebastian a “normal” life, and he’d pretended, sometimes. To be “someone else.” Mimicked others to fool some (including himself, even if it was only for a short while) that he _ was _ “normal.”

But it was a lie. And maintaining a pretense was exhausting. Cracks always appeared, his true self peaking through and scaring others away. 

“Thank you, Agni,” he forced himself to say when he realized he’d gone too long without saying anything. “And thanks for today. I know you’re busy at work, and you and Soma must have so much prep to do for your real party—”

Agni tutted, his hand above Sebastian’s arm as if he were going to lay a hand there, stopping at the last moment, as if remembering how difficult touch could be for the other man. “Nonsense,” he said confidently, as he unrolled his knives and selected one to begin chopping some onions. “Is it written somewhere that you need more than four people for it to be considered a ‘real’ party?”

Sebastian smiled faintly. “I’m still sorry I’m going to miss the re—your other party, though.”

“We’ll miss you.” Agni smiles warmly. “It just means your costume next year needs to be particularly impressive.”

* * *

The kitchen already smelled heavenly when Bard and Soma returned, entering through the side door. Agni was busy at the stove, stirring this pot or that—probably his amazing pumpkin curry—while Sebastian sat at the counter nearby, clearly on edge. Neither man was speaking. 

Soma, cheerfully oblivious as usual—or maybe he was being particularly emphatic precisely _ because _ he sensed the tension, burst around Bard, dropping his bags and embracing Sebastian from the side.

_ Goddammit _, Bard sighed. He’d specifically told Soma not to touch Sebastian without his permission, and certainly not without warning.

He could already see his husband’s breathing quicken as he pried the bubbly Indian man off him. “Please don’t,” Sebastian said in a quiet, but firm voice, his gaze snapping to Bard.

“Let’s go upstairs and change into our costumes,” Bard said as naturally as he could, waving his bag. “Soma and Agni can get ready down here—use the guest room if you need to. We’ll be down in a few minutes.” Bard made pointed eye contact with Agni, who nodded as if understanding.

Soma was pouting, but Bard ignored him as he ushered his husband upstairs.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” Sebastian was repeating over and over, pacing around their bedroom, chest heaving.

Bard set the bags aside and approached cautiously. He wanted to pull his husband into his arms, kiss him and tell him everything would be fine, but he had to be careful. “We can cancel. I can go downstairs right now and ask Agni and Soma to go home.”

Sebastian paused, staring at Bard as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Really? Won’t they hate me? Agni did all that work . . .”

Bard took a seat on their bed, hoping maybe it would tempt Sebastian to join him. “They’re our friends. Of course they won’t hate you.”

Sebastian let out a long breath, smiling faintly, and perched on the edge of the mattress so only his knees were touching Bard’s. He was shaking subtly, and tucked his hands between his thighs.

“Before I go, please answer me one question.”

Caught off guard, Sebastian blinked before nodding.

“Is it _ you _ that wants me to call the party off, or is it your anxiety?”

For a minute, Sebastian looked wounded, and he swallowed thickly. He didn’t respond right away, scooting closer and laying his head on Bard’s shoulder. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

Hesitantly, Bard enveloped his husband with his arms and laid a kiss on his head. “I know. But this isn’t forever.” He smoothed Sebastian’s back.

Sebastian sighed contentedly, relaxing in his husband’s hold. “I don’t want them to leave.”

Bard smiled faintly. “OK.”

“I’m scared, Bard.”

“Of what?”

Half expecting Sebastian to come back with, _ “A lot of things,” _ Bard was surprised when instead he said, voice cracking, “Losing the house. Losing you. Losing everything.” Long fingers clutched at the fabric of Bard’s T-shirt.

“Hey, hey,” Bard nudged Sebastian’s chin up, looking deep into his eyes, wiping away a stray tear or two. “We won’t lose the house.” 

“But I’m not working, and—”

“And we have a nestegg. It’s not huge, but it’s something. I’ve whittled our budget down to the bare minimum, I’m working extra hours, and Agni already offered to loan us money if it comes to it. I know you feel safe here. We’ll be OK.”

“I’m worthless,” Sebastian said, burying his head in Bard’s shoulder. 

“If I broke my leg and couldn’t work, you wouldn’t expect me to snap my fingers and immediately be healed, would you? Of course not.” Bard held his husband supportively as he stared at the pictures hung artfully around the room of their life together, particularly homing in on the ones where Sebastian was smiling. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you _ have _ made progress. Your depression _ is _ better. You’re having fewer flashbacks. No matter what, we have each other and we _ will _ make it through together. Our combined stubbornness is too strong not to.” 

Sebastian was quiet a long time, as if processing what Bard was saying, or simply letting his emotions settle. “Thank you for taking a chance on me all those years ago.”

Bard chuckled. “Me? You’re the one who took the chance. I was a starving line cook with a load of school debt who smoked like a chimney and with the personality of a rattlesnake.”

Seb laughed. It was just a chuckle, but it made Bard’s heart lighten just from hearing the sound that was so foriegn since his uncle’s parole. He sat up, wiping his face. “I thought I’d always be alone. I couldn’t let anyone touch me. Sex was . . . it terrified me.”

Bard smiled fondly, cradling his husband’s face. “My friends warned me to stay clear, but I didn’t care. You’re so beautiful. First time I made you smile, I was hooked.”

Even after all these years, Sebastian blushed, dropping his gaze. He never could take a compliment.

“I got frustrated sometimes, of course. But it was worth it. _ You’re _ worth it.” Bard cupped Sebastian’s neck and gave him a quick peck. With a cheeky smile, he added, “Plus, I got to cross ‘virgin’ off my sex bucket list.”

“Bard . . . I wasn’t—”

Shaking him subtly, as if to emphasize his point, Bard stared hard into his husband’s eyes, to leave no doubt that he was sincere. “You were to me.”

Sebastian’s lip and chest trembled. He slapped a hand over his mouth, but a sob burst through anyway.

“Hey, hey, shit. I’m sorry. I‘m an idiot. Forget I said anything.”

Sniffling, Sebastian shook his head emphatically. “Thank you.” He drew his fingers along Bard’s sideburn, scratching the stubble, making his husband shiver. “You never saw me as tainted, did you?”

Surprised, Bard replied, “Never.” He stroked Sebastian’s cheek fondly. “I would quit smoking cold turkey if it meant I could undo what happened to you. You’re the most important thing in my life.” They pressed their foreheads together. “So, what’ll it be? Do I kick our friends out, or do we try on some overpriced costumes?” 

* * *

Bard was helping Agni put the finishing touches on dinner when Sebastian finally came downstairs. He’d assured Bard he’d be up to dinner if he had a few minutes to wash his face and get ready. Glancing up from the plates, Bard saw his husband, in costume, actually smiling, really smiling, and it filled him with joy and relief. Sure, even with the makeup, he could tell how stressed and tired Sebastian was, but this was progress. He just had to hope his next suggestion wouldn’t be pushing things too far. He wiped his hands and approached, kissing Sebastian’s cheek.

“You make a cute cat,” he said with a smile.

Sebastian adjusted his black cat ears headband. “And you make a cute zombie chef. Though you’d be more convincing with makeup.”

“What would make me more convincing is a dirty coat. Either I’m a terrible chef, or a terrible zombie.”

That elicited a small chuckle. “Dinner ready?”

“Just about, yeah. So, uh—” Bard scratched the back of his head and glanced over at their friends. Agni was dressed as a old-school vampire, although he was saving his cape for dinner since capes and kitchens weren’t necessarily a good mix, and Soma, fittingly, was dressed like Aladdin, in his prince outfit. “Soma thought, since the weather’s so nice right now, maybe we could eat outside? But if you’re not up for it, we all under—”

“I—I’ll try. I want to. Try.” Sebastian reached out and linked his fingers in Bard’s, squeezing firmly. “Just. Stay close? Please?” Although he saw determination in those beautiful maghony irises, he also saw fear.

“Of course,” Bard said, squeezing back. “Both Agni and Soma know martial arts, and I’ve got my pistol in my pocket. Nothing will happen, but if we have an unwanted visitor, you’re safe. We all promise that.”

Sebastian had been walking slowly toward the patio door, but he stopped suddenly, closing his eyes and regulating his breathing, murmuring his mantra under his breath. “I’m safe. I can do this. I’m safe. He’s not here. I’m safe.”

Bard waited for him to be ready to continue, then reached over to open the door, a gust of cool evening air greeting them. He could feel Sebastian tense, and cautiously wrapped his arm around his husband’s waist.

Sebastian was trembling, clinging to Bard, trying not to let his breathing get out of control.

“It’s all right to change your mind at any time,” Bard encouraged.

Taking a shaky breath, Seb nodded, and stepped forward, slowly, almost as if he were dragging himself through deep mud.

It took several minutes before they’d settled onto one of the benches at their outdoor table, touching along one side, Sebastian’s hand on Bard’s chest as a tactile way of keeping his breathing in check. “The lights are pretty,” he murmured, watching the purple and orange fairy lights twinkle where they were wrapped around the porch railing, some strands dangling from the eaves and beams of the patio cover. Their yard was small, but festive and cozy, and—Bard hoped—less threatening than it might otherwise have been. “When did you have time to do this?”

Bard shrugged. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Sebastian relaxed subtly, elbowing Bard in the ribs. “You’re a zombie, not a wizard.”

Bard was about to retort when he heard Soma’s voice from behind them. “All clear?”

He glanced at his husband. “You think you can do this?”

Sebastian linked his arm in Bard’s. For the first time in months, hope brightened his eyes, which twinkled as much as the decorations. “Yeah. I think I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to those of you who put up with my self indulgent AU!
> 
> I love kudos, comments, and asks—let me know what you liked the most, what surprised you, if you enjoyed seeing Agni and Soma playing a bigger role, and what you might want to see next for this AU!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @plague-of-insomnia


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